


Summer of My Smiles

by sirachamuchacha



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Led Zeppelin - Freeform, M/M, this is like super unplanned lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 09:04:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirachamuchacha/pseuds/sirachamuchacha
Summary: 1973. Negan's following Led Zeppelin around the US when he meets Rick Grimes. Judith plays wingman.. or wingbaby.





	Summer of My Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my second work lmao. It was really unexpected, I literally wrote and edited this in like two hours, so I'm sorry if it's like super shitty.  
> And while we're on the topic of other works, I've got plans for a High School AU fic coming out, hopefully soon, and I'm pretty excited about it. It's gonna be chaptered and all that jazz, so keep an eye out for that. :)  
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this little ditty- the title of this work was taken from a line in the Rain Song by Led Zeppelin.

Negan's been following Zeppelin around the U.S. since the beginning of May.

It’s the second day of June now, and the past month has been nothing but him, his truck, and the constant variations of gas stations to keep his baby fueled and his wheels a-rollin’ down many highways, from the city of Atlanta, Georgia to the city of San Francisco, California, where he momentarily resides now, waiting for the evening to bring showtime.

He's in the parking lot of Kezar Stadium, Zeppelin’s current venue, leaning against the bed of his truck and enjoying a mighty cigarette, relishing in the rude scowls and grimaces he receives from all the miraged hippies that pass him by.

Fuck those guys, Negan thinks as he sucks his smoke in heavily, he's been free-loving and dropping acid since the fifties, since before these fucks could even walk. And for God’s sake, it's the seventies; he’d thought that shit had died back in ‘69 when Manson drove old Dixie down.

He exhales maybe a little too bitterly, sighing out a cloud of carcinogen into the thick air. He watches as it thins and spreads until it disappears completely to pollute the fog of marijuana that dresses the atmosphere.

Then he grabs his sunglasses from the back of his truck, where all his belongings are thrown, and heads towards the entrance.

There's still a fuck ton of time to kill, but it's Led Zeppelin _and_ in San Fran-fucking-cisco of all God forsaken cities, so the line is bound to be a pain in the fucking ass.

So patiently he stands, doing the same thing he’d been doing in the parking lot; just people watching and chain-smoking some cigs. The shades sure make the former activity a hell of a lot easier, and now he finds himself indulging on the sights of all the mediocre human specimen that pass him by from the sides and from the front, all of them too high to know how to stay in one fucking line (or at least too high to give a fuck).

He sees the women and girls in their mini skirts and their small tops- no bra, nipples hard and inviting, makeup bright and harsh like the California sun, some begging for a ticket to the show, others begging for a line or a joint or a tab or a pill.

He sees all the men and boys, chasing after those women and girls, giving them the drugs or the tickets, all of them craving the one thing he knows he should be craving too.

Love.

Or fuck, maybe sex, or conversation, or a dope rush or something, what the fuck does he know?

Either way, he finds no satisfaction in those activities, at least he hasn't for awhile, not since Lucille.

All he wants now, is loud, live Rock and fucking Roll, splitting his eardrums and rendering him speechless. That's all he lives for now, and he's blessed enough to get it.

Negan’s reaching for another cigarette when he hears the loud, shrill, and nearly foreign cry of a baby sound, cutting through all the conversation in the air.

The sound makes his eyebrow shoot high in curiosity, and apparently, it's elicited the same reaction from everyone else because for a brief, but surely stretched out moment, there's something close to silence, or as close to silent as a hundred hippies who love to hear themselves yap can get.

Negan's eyes scope the area for the source of the sound, and when they find it, his brow shoots up even higher, and he takes off his sunglasses to get a better look.

“It's alright, babygirl, you'll thank me later, I promise.”

Negan watches in amusement as an attractive man not far from his own age, donning a killer beard and ridiculously firm pecks under a brown t-shirt, comforts a chubby infant strapped to his chest in one of those ridiculous harnesses as he places earmuffs half her size onto her head.

The man rocks gently, soothing her woes with patience only a parent can have.

He continues mouthing things to her, but by this time, the silence in the air is completely dead and gone, and Negan can't hear a damned thing.

He doesn't know what possesses him to, but next thing he knows, he's walking over to the man, attempting conversation.

“Bringin’ a baby to a Zeppelin concert, huh?” He hasn't spoken to another human in over a month. He wonders if it shows.

His words are met with an intimidating glare, iced over with eyes that burn like blue fire. The little sweetheart strapped to her father's chest makes a noise, tries to turn and face Negan, but can't, under her circumstances.

“I don’t need any strangers tellin’ me how to handle my kid, alright?” He spits out his words with a twang pulled straight from the bowels of the South, and there's definitely something pent up and boiling behind his words that Negan has no clue of.

He puts his hands up in mock defense, gives his best charming smirk, “Hey, no critique here, darlin’. I wouldn't even know where to begin. I don’t know jack shit about kids..”

He gets another glare in response.

“But I must say, you bringing up that little angel on Zeppelin might be the wisest fucking move you’ll ever make in all your Goddamn years. Boy, do I wish you were my Daddy.”

The man’s jaw clenches tight, his skin flushing scarlet with either anger or flattery, who knows?

“Watch your mouth in front of my child.”

“She's got the muffs on,” Negan points to the things swallowing up her head.

His blue eyes narrow into sassy slits, “I don't care.”

In that moment, Negan decides he likes this guy, whoever he is. He's got spunk.

Negan’s smirk deepens, even as those vicious eyes bore into his skin with no mercy.

“I’m Negan,” he states, wasting no time.

He's thrown an incredulous look. The baby between them fidgets in the way babies do, and the blue-eyed man quits glaring at him so he can spare a glance at his daughter.

Then he's looking back up at Negan, swallowing hard, as if it may be his own pride he's stomaching.

“I’m Rick.”

When the little girl fusses against him, Rick adds, “and this is Judy, short for Judith.”

Judy makes a satisfied noise, and Negan feels himself breaking into a smile, a genuine smile.

Damn, it's been awhile since he's felt his face do that.

“Well, aren't you two just the sweetest?”

Rick hmphs, shaking his head in disbelief of the man's demeanor. “That's to be discussed.”

Negan huffs a laugh out through his nose.

“Where are you sitting tonight?”

Rick raises an eyebrow, “Does it matter?”

Negan pulls out two tickets from his back pocket, “Depends if you wanna see Rob Plant’s left nut less than ten feet away from your nose.”

Rick gives him a scolding glare, pointedly looking down at Judith, who is unaware of any qualms.

“She's got the muffs on, man!” Negan tries again.

Rick rolls his eyes and huffs a sigh that makes the longer hairs above his upper lip sway.

“Just.. gimme the damn ticket.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed this type of thing, and if maybe you'd like to see more of this kind of stuff from me.  
> You guys are the best! :) <333


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